


Closer Than Most

by Robin Hood (kjack89)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: 5+1 Things, Accidental Touching, Alternate Universe - Canon, Developing Relationship, M/M, Post-Intent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 16:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13034637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood
Summary: That was the end of it, at least as far as Barba was concerned. He had never once been accused of being a patient man, and besides, even if Carisi hadn’t turned away, his sudden desire to keep at least three feet of space between himself and Barba said more than he ever needed to.Well, three feet except for when Carisi wanted to yell at him.Not that Barba cared.Barba definitely cared.But there was nothing he could do except wait, and see.And hope.Or, 5 times in the course of getting things back on track that Barba and Carisi couldn't seem to keep their hands to themselves, and one time neither would ever want to.





	Closer Than Most

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tumblr user booyah-booty](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Tumblr+user+booyah-booty).



> For Reagan, who requested accidental touching. This was originally supposed to be a lot more lighthearted, but then the Cursed Episode™ happened, so instead...this is what you get. Hope you don't mind, dearest!! And a very Merry Christmas!!
> 
> Thanks to AHF for the beta!!
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

When Barba first met Sonny Carisi, he learned a few things immediately: Carisi was loud, and Italian, lacked all judgment in facial hair and apparently lacked all awareness of personal space. It wasn’t that he pulled the macho conventions that Barba would’ve frankly expected from someone with a mustache that atrocious, such as getting in Barba’s face; it was more that he was seemingly unaware that two male colleagues didn’t have to spend every moment that they were in the same room practically sharing body heat.

Not that Barba was complaining.

Barba was definitely not complaining.

At least, he wasn’t complaining until the other man showed no desire to move beyond standing just a little too close, or letting his gaze linger just a little too long. Even as the hero worship and awe from Carisi softened into respect and something close to friendship, he never took that next step.

The closest they’d ever gotten was the day of Mike Dodds funeral, where there had been a moment, a shift, a current of electricity in the air, a spark that might’ve ignited into a full-on fire.

Might’ve, had Carisi not turned away, had Barba not had to watch the pale column of his neck as the other man swallowed, hard, before schooling his expression into something dispassionate, distant.

Something Barba had never once seen on Carisi’s face.

Or at least, never once seen aimed at him.

That was the end of it, at least as far as Barba was concerned. He had never once been accused of being a patient man, and besides, even if Carisi hadn’t turned away, his sudden desire to keep at least three feet of space between himself and Barba said more than he ever needed to.

Well, three feet except for when Carisi wanted to yell at him.

And it was fine, really; Barba was a big boy who lived a very busy and, despite what his mother might think, personally satisfying life, and he certainly wasn’t going to waste time or energy mooning over a detective ten years his junior who clearly had no desire to pursue anything.

So he told himself, anyway.

It made it easier to pretend it didn’t hurt.

He just wished it made it easier to not notice that Carisi was slipping further and further away from him, further away from all of them, it seemed, his happy smile making only rare appearances, his laugh even moreso. Even those dimples that Barba had fallen for, hard and fast, had disappeared.

Not that Barba cared.

Barba definitely cared.

But there was nothing he could do except wait, and see.

And hope.

All of the things that had never once come easily to Barba.

But then again, when he had ever expected anything with Carisi to come easily?

* * *

 

A knock sounded on Barba’s office door, and he glanced automatically at the clock, surprised that Carmen hadn’t let him know someone was here to see him. But the time on the clock explained why — it was almost nine, and Carmen had left a good two hours ago. “Come in,” he called, glancing back at his legal pad and scribbled notes ahead of tomorrow’s hearing.

Carisi poked his head into Barba’s office and Barba blinked at him in surprise. “Detective,” he said. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

The words popped out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he thought it was to his credit that he didn’t blush or look away from Carisi, who just arched an eyebrow. “Surprised, Counselor?” he repeated. “What, were you expecting the Lieu?”

“No, I just assumed you had graduated from delivery boy duties.” Barba met his arched eyebrow with one of his own. “Clearly I was wrong.”

Carisi huffed a laugh and stepped into Barba’s office, holding up the file in hand. “Yeah, well, when we’ve got a perp that’s been sitting in the tombs for three hours already, even I have to schlep for a warrant.”

Barba smirked. “That, and Fin didn’t want to.”

Carisi laughed again, a real laugh this time. “That obvious?” he asked, turning the file over in his hands.

“Did you lose rock, paper, scissors?” Barba couldn’t help but tease. “Draw the short straw?”

“Nah, just volunteered before I could be ordered to do it,” Carisi said with something like a smirk. “I know you’d like to think everyone’s dying to trek over to One Hogan Place…”

He trailed off and Barba laughed lightly, but something tightened in his chest. Once upon a time, Carisi would’ve dropped everything to come over to Barba’s office.

But that was a long time ago.

“So,” he said, tearing his eyes away from Carisi’s face to look instead at the file in his hands. “You need a warrant?”

Carisi blinked and looked startled for a moment. “Oh. Right.” He stepped forward, keeping Barba’s desk between them like he had every reluctant trip to Barba’s office over the past year, but then seemed to change his mind, crossing around the side of the desk and opening the file. “See, here — this is what I think is particularly relevant.”

He leaned over Barba, who had to fight against the urge to let his eyes flutter closed at the proximity, to breathe in Carisi’s scent.

He was being ridiculous.

Quickly, he reached for the file, just as Carisi went to hand it to him, and their fingers brushed together for the first time in…

Well, in far too long.

Carisi pulled his hand away just a little too quickly, shifting instead to rub the back of his neck, a slight blush in his cheeks. Barba coughed and quickly looked down at the file, even though he didn’t really read a word of it. “Yes, well, this seems to be in order,” he said. “I’ll make a few calls.”

“Thanks,” Carisi said, taking a step back.

But not retreating, not fully.

And Barba took that as a small victory of sorts.

“If, uh, if you need anything—”

“I know where to find you,” Barba finished with a small smile. “Go, before Fin decides you’ve abandoned him with the perp and resorts to doing something stupid.”

“Fin? Do something stupid?  _ Never _ .” Carisi laughed. “Let us know when you get that warrant.”

He left and Barba let out a sigh and sat back in his seat. He had a judge who owed him a favor, and getting the warrant wouldn’t be difficult. He’d even be nice and drop it off at the precinct, save Carisi and Fin the trip back to One Hogan Place.

And maybe, at this rate, he’d make it home before midnight.

Not that it mattered, since he was definitely not going to spend the entire night thinking about Carisi’s fingers brushing against his.

Not in the slightest.

* * *

 

“Rafa!’ Liv called, waving him over to where the squad was bellied up against the bar, empty glasses already littering the bar in front of them.

He gave Liv an amused look. “I’d ask if you’re supposed to be on mother duty, but I sure as hell hope not,” he said, gesturing to the bartender, who nodded and went to pour Barba his usual.

Rollins leaned around Olivia to smirk at Barba. “Don’t you know that women are  _ excellent _ multitaskers?” she asked, a little too loudly.

Barba snorted. “I didn’t realize we were considering motherhood and binge-drinking multitasking.”

“It’s not binge-drinking,” Carisi protested. “We’re celebrating.”

“Oh?” Barba asked, taking a sip of scotch. “What exactly are we celebrating?”

Carisi raised his glass in a toast to Fin. “Sarge made sarge!” he said excitedly.

Barba blinked. “That...is old news, is it not?”

“He is officially a sergeant,” Olivia interjected. “Got his shield and everything, and assigned to SVU as our squad’s sergeant.” Fin shrugged nonchalantly as Olivia nudged him. “Didn’t even tell us that his promotion ceremony was today.”

“Congratulations, Sergeant,” Barba said, reaching out to clink his glass against Fin’s beer.

Fin shrugged. “It’s an excuse to get drunk,” he said easily.

“It’s a lot more than that,” Rollins said, nudging Fin with a grin.

The conversation devolved from there, with more alcohol all around for the assembled officers and Barba. Not too long after Barba got there, Fin, the ostensible reason for the impromptu gathering in the first place, made his excuses and took his leave, Rollins following soon afterward when she almost fell off her barstool. Olivia looked mournfully at her half-drunk glass of wine. “I should go with her,” she sighed. “Make sure she gets home safe.”

“I can do it,” Carisi volunteered, though, inexplicably, he winced and shook his head. “Actually, better if you do. Amanda might not, uh, appreciate my help.”

Barba shot Carisi a confused look, wondering what the story was behind that, but Olivia just nodded, meaning either she already knew the reason, or just accepted it without question. Frankly, neither bode well for Carisi.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Olivia told them, before adding in what she clearly thought was a subtle way, “Behave, you two.”

Barba rolled his eyes but Carisi laughed. “We’ll try our best, Lieu,” he promised. Once Olivia was gone, Carisi propped his chin on his hand and looked over at Barba. “So...” he started, but didn’t seem to have anything to say.

“Articulate as always,” Barba said with a smirk.

Carisi gave him a look. “You have an advantage,” he said. “Catch up and then we’ll see who’s articulate.”

Barba raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to goad me into getting drunk?”

“That depends,” Carisi said.

“On what?”

“Is it working?”

Barba rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. “I wish I could tell you that it wasn’t,” he said ruefully.

Carisi laughed as well and leaned over the bar to order them another round of drinks, his leg pressed against Barba’s, the warmth at once foreign and familiar.

And when Carisi slung an arm around the back of Barba’s chair, he tried not to lean into the touch.

Desperately casting around for a neutral topic, Barba took a sip of his drink before asking, “Something going on with you and Detective Rollins?”

Carisi’s arm dropped from the back of Barba’s chair and Barba flinched at the sudden loss of warmth. “Oh, uh, you caught that, huh?” he asked, something in his tone wry as he took a swig of beer. 

Barba shrugged. “I know my observation skills couldn’t  _ possibly _ compare to that of a decorated NYPD detective, but…”

Carisi snorted. “You trying to flatter me into telling you?” he asked wryly.

“That depends,” Barba said, echoing Carisi’s words back to him, and Carisi smiled, though his smile was small, and tired.

“You overplayed your hand, I’d’ve told you without the flattery,” Carisi told him before shrugging. “It’s nothing. Really. We’re — we’re getting back to being fine. I, uh, I acted like a jackass, and apologized, but I broke Amanda’s trust and that’s gonna take time to fix.”

“What’d you do?” Barba asked, curious.

Carisi laughed without any real humor. “Tried to kiss her,” he said, taking another swig of beer. “In West Virginia. Then acted like a dick when she turned me down to sleep with some local yokel.” 

“Ah,” Barba said, his drink halfway to his lips, but he was frozen on the part where Carisi had tried to kiss Amanda. “I see.”

Carisi glanced at him, something almost amused in his expression. “I’m gay, you know.”

Barba almost choked on the sip he had finally managed to take. “I, um, that is,” he stammered, unusually inarticulate, and Carisi’s eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement. As Barba grabbed a napkin to blot the scotch he’d accidentally spilled, he asked, “So if you’re gay, then why—”

He didn’t quite finish the question, but he didn’t have to. The why encompassed so many things from the past year, from whatever this was with Amanda to the rumors Barba had heard about a Miss 34B and journalist to why Carisi had turned away instead of leaning in when they sat next to each other, much like this, at the bar after Dodds’ funeral.

Carisi waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, you know,” he said vaguely. “Denial, river, Egypt, however that expression goes.” Barba rolled his eyes and Carisi smiled at him, a sudden, bright smile that took Barba’s breath away. “It took me awhile to be willing to admit it.”

“And now?” Barba asked.

“And now…” Carisi shrugged and drained his beer. “I’m here, I’m queer, and I’m gonna get another beer.”

Barba groaned loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dear God,” he sighed, as Carisi laughed. “Well, I am glad that you seem more comfortable with your sexuality.”

Carisi grinned. “You totally knew, didn’t you?’ he asked, seemingly rhetorically. “Worst kept secret in SVU, right?”

Barba thought of his lingering feelings for Carisi and the knowing look on Liv’s face as she had left them and shrugged. “Maybe second worst,” he allowed, reaching forward to clink his scotch glass against Carisi’s beer. 

Carisi just laughed, resting his arm on the back of Barba’s chair again as the conversation moved on from there. This time, Carisi’s arm stayed in its place, and Barba didn’t even bother pretending he wasn’t leaning into the touch.

* * *

 

“Hey Counselor, wait up!” 

Barba paused, though he didn’t turn, instead waiting for Carisi to catch up to him in the courtroom hallway before giving him a look. “Something you need, Detective?’ he asked tiredly.

Carisi shrugged. “That, uh, that didn’t go well.”

Barba snorted. “I have no idea what would make you say that,” he sighed, running a hand across his face. “Was it our most crucial piece of evidence being thrown out, or the judge entertaining a motion based on a single piece of case law from 1925?”

Though Carisi winced at the cutting sarcasm in Barba’s voice, he also said bracingly, “Well, luckily, you’ve got 92 years of subsequent case law on your side.”

“And a twenty-four hour continuance to find the relevant cases to quash the motion,” Barba said, exhausted already.

“Exactly,” Carisi said with a nod, a small smile tugging at his lips despite circumstances. “I know it’s probably been a few years since you pulled your last all-nighter, but I’m sure you can manage it.”

“Your faith in me is, as always, appreciated,” Barba said dryly.

Carisi just chuckled. “C’mon, I’ll help.”

Barba gave him an appraising look. “You really don’t have to do that,” he said, but his next words, some excuse about just getting some paralegals and legal interns to help, died on his tongue as Carisi gave him a look. “Fine, but you don’t get to complain when you’re dead on your feet tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s my day off,” Carisi said.

Barba opened his mouth and promptly closed it again, trying to swallow down the unexpected emotion that welled in his chest, seemingly against his will. Instead, he aimed for a joke. “I hate to think about the state of your social life if this is the most exciting thing you can think of doing the night before your day off.”

Carisi rolled his eyes, but he was smiling slightly. “I never said it was the most exciting thing,” he said. “Now, should we get coffee on the way back to your office?” Barba chose not to respond, simply giving Carisi a look that he hoped communicated how stupid the question was, and Carisi held up his hands and laughed. “Ok, fine, I shouldn’t have asked.”

Together, they headed toward the door, walking close enough that their shoulders brushed against each other. Barba would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy each incidental touch, each accidental press of Carisi’s arm against his. Nor could he deny the thoroughly absurd tingle that worked its way up his arm when Carisi’s fingers brushed against his.

And maybe it was preemptive exhaustion or his sheer relief at being back to a place where he could walk next to Carisi without having to keep his defenses up, but Barba couldn’t help but mutter jokingly, “Trying to hold my hand, Detective?”

Carisi blinked, his eyes widening momentarily before he huffed a laugh and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Making fun of me when I’m trying to help you? Keep it up and I’ll let you drown in precedent all on your own.”

Still, he nudged Barba with his shoulder to show he didn’t really mean it, and Barba ducked his head and smiled.

The smile hadn’t quite faded by the time they made it back to Barba’s office.

* * *

 

“Hey Counselor!” Barba turned, smirking, as Carisi hurried to catch up to him on a very different day after a very different case. “Wait up.”

“Coming to congratulate me?” Barba asked, too ebullient with the win he had just pulled off to care that he sounded more than a little arrogant.

Carisi rolled his eyes but he was grinning. “Yeah, yeah, congratulations, you did your job, well done and all.” 

“I’m  _ overwhelmed _ by your sincerity.”

Carisi laughed. “You already know you’re brilliant, you really gotta hear it from me?” Barba pretended to consider it and Carisi rolled his eyes again. “Actually, I wanted to let you know the squad’s getting drinks tonight. Wanted to see if you’d be joining us.”

“Well, let me go ahead and check my very busy social calendar—” Carisi elbowed him and Barba laughed. “I think I can manage at least one drink. Forlini’s?”

“Nah, there’s this new place not far from the precinct we’re gonna try. I’ll text you the address.” Carisi looked like he had more that he wanted to say, but then they stepped out the front doors of the courthouse and were mobbed by a massive crowd of reporters.

Barba set his shoulders and pushed determinedly ahead, ignoring the microphones and cameras thrust in his face. Publicity was one of the things he hated most about this job, especially when the defendant was a well-known actor who had just been sentenced by a judge for fifteen counts of sexual assault and forcible touching, but he was well used to pushing through the throngs of reporters without answering any of their inane questions.

His step faltered when he realized that while he was used to it, Carisi wasn’t it, and he half-turned, ready to look behind him for the detective when he felt a hand splay large and warm against his back. “Keep going,” Carisi said in a grim undertone. “They’ll trample us if we stop.”

Barba huffed a laugh and let Carisi steer him the crowd, glad that most reporters would see the badge and gun in their prominent positions on Carisi’s belt and take a step back, however reluctantly. Glad also for perhaps the first time ever that Carisi had a few inches on him and could probably more easily pick out the best route away from the madness.

For his part, Barba was just content with the feeling of Carisi’s hand resting against his back.

So much so that he didn’t even notice until they were halfway down the street and well away from the mob of reporters that Carisi’s hand was still splayed against his back.

For a moment, Barba was tempted to poke gentle fun at Carisi for it.

But then he looked up at him and saw the soft smile on Carisi’s face.

And Barba had never wanted to make fun of anything less.

* * *

 

“Where is he?” Barba demanded as soon as he got off the elevator at SVU.

Olivia sighed, her expression tired and strained, and she held up her hands in a placating gesture. “Rafa—” she started, but he ignored her.

“Where  _ is _ he?” he repeated, a little louder, as if she just hadn’t heard him the first time around.

“He’s in my office,” Olivia said. “And Rafael, he’s fine.”

He ignored her again, striding across the precinct to Olivia’s office and yanking the door open with more force than was probably necessary, closing it behind him with a snap.

Only then did he take a good look at Carisi, slumped on the couch in Olivia’s office, an ice pack pressed to his left eye. “Barba?” Carisi asked, surprised, shifting as if to sit up and wincing at the motion.

“Jesus Christ,” Barba huffed, crossing to him and pushing him back down. “You just  _ had _ to get involved, didn’t you? Couldn’t wait for backup or anything responsible, of course not.”

“Victim blaming, Counselor?” Carisi asked, attempting a smile, though it looked far more like a grimace.

“You put yourself right in the middle of a domestic dispute,” Barba said, the harshness of his words belied by the gentleness of his touch as he lifted the ice pack off of Carisi’s eye to check the swelling underneath it. “I don’t think victim’s the right word. Idiot seems more accurate.”

He reapplied the ice pack and looked critically at Carisi, examining the rest of him for other injuries — both visible and otherwise. “Barba, I’m fine,” Carisi said, even as Barba gently ran his fingers across the bruise blossoming on Carisi’s right cheek.

“You might not have been,” Barba informed him, his voice too quiet and hoarse to be the scolding he had intended. “And besides, I’m not sure that almost getting your face bashed in with a pistol counts as fine.”

“Better than the alternative,” Carisi said with a weak chuckle, wincing and pressing a hand to his ribs.

Barba instinctively covered Carisi’s hand with his own, his other hand still cradling Carisi’s cheek. “Don’t even joke about that.”

He brushed his thumb across Carisi’s cheek and the detective sighed, his eyelids fluttering closed for a brief moment. “Why weren’t you here to yell at me after Tom Cole almost shot me?” he asked softly.

Barba’s hand stilled. “I didn’t think you would want me there,” he said.

“And now?”

Barba’s hand seemed to move of its own accord, moving featherlight down Carisi’s cheek before his thumb gently traced Carisi’s bottom lip. “And now I don’t particularly care if you want me here or not,” he said. “I had to make sure—”

The door of Olivia’s office banged open and Barba took an automatic step back, his hands falling back to his sides. But not quickly enough, not if the look on Olivia’s face was to be believed. “Carisi, IAB’s here to take your statement,” she said, arching an eyebrow at the two of them. “So Barba, since the last time I checked, you weren’t a doctor—”

“I do have a doctorate degree, you realize,” Barba said, aiming for his usual snark.

Olivia rolled her eyes. “MD and JD are two very different things,” she said dryly.

She was right, and Barba knew that Carisi needed to give his statement before he could go home and get the rest he very clearly needed, so he nodded, and was about to step away when Carisi’s hand closed around his wrist, keeping him in place. “Five minutes, Lieu,” Carisi said, not looking away from Barba. “Please.”

Olivia looked equal parts amused and exasperated, and settled for rolling her eyes and huffing a sigh before leaving them alone in her office once more. Barba looked back at Carisi, his expression softening. “You should talk to IAB,” he said. “And then get home and get some rest.”

“What did you have to make sure of?”

Barba blinked and shrugged, too aware of Carisi’s hand still wrapped around his wrist. “That you were ok,” he said honestly.

“And you didn’t believe Olivia when she texted you?”

“I prefer to trust what I can see for myself,” Barba said dryly.

Carisi nodded slowly, his dimples deepening just for a moment, and Barba had the brief and absurd thought that it was frankly unfair that Carisi could have one eye swollen shut and still look as beautiful as ever. “That’s interesting,” he said mildly. “I’ve always found that sight can be deceptive.”

Barba rolled his eyes. “So then what do you trust?” he asked.

“What I can touch.”

Barba didn’t know if Carisi tugged him closer or if he moved of his own volition, but somehow, the space between them disappeared, his hand found its place again against Carisi’s cheek, and Carisi’s lips found his, and one blissful moment, Barba forgot that Carisi had almost died, forgot that he had been injured, forgot that this had happened before, could easily happen again.

For now, he was touching Carisi, holding him, kissing him.

For now, that was enough.

* * *

 

Barba picked up his cellphone without even looking at it as he headed out of the courthouse. “Rita, your client wants a deal already?” he asked. “I’m impressed. That must be a record time.”

“Very funny,” Rita said, but whatever she said after that was lost on Barba, who had spotted Carisi at the bottom of the steps, waiting for him, and also on the phone.

Carisi lit up when he saw Barba, who couldn’t quite keep the smile off of his face as he reached him, his smile only growing when Carisi grabbed his free hand, lacing their fingers together even as he kept talking. “Yeah, Amanda, I got it. I’ll talk to Barba about the warrant.”

He lifted Barba’s hand to his mouth to press a quick kiss to his knuckles, and Barba’s smile softened. “Rita, just send me an email with your offer,” he interrupted, having not listened to a subsequent word she’d said. “I’m a busy man and I don’t have time to listen to this.”

He hung up his phone and slid it back in his pocket.

“Bye, Amanda, I gotta go,” Carisi said, hanging up and stowing his phone as well. “Hi there.”

“Hi yourself,” Barba said. “Your office or mine?”

“Yours. I gotta talk to you about a warrant.”

“Excellent. I always love hearing you beg me for legal documents,” Barba said, his smile sharpening into a smirk. 

Carisi rolled his eyes, but his own grin didn’t falter. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “Anyway, we caught this case with a serial rapist originally from Brooklyn—”

He relayed the facts of the case as they walked together, his hand still twined with Barba’s, and Barba was struck by the sudden realization that this was as close to perfection as he was probably ever going to get. Something of that must’ve shown on his face, because Carisi paused to scowl at him. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Not even remotely,” Barba told him.

Carisi rolled his eyes, and Barba squeezed his hand.

Carisi’s smile reemerged, softer and wider than before, and he squeezed Barba’s hand back.

Sometimes a touch said more than words ever could.


End file.
